Love me back to life
by Angelsorcerer
Summary: D'Artagnan survived the death of his friends, and managed to pull through the Zombie apocalypse:he'd be damned if he let that second chance be taken away from from him. Where Athos, Porthos and Aramis come back from the dead and relearn what it means to be alive. Too bad they still can't keep out of trouble and are lead to the discovery of a mysterious cult with dark intentions.
1. Tréville: Homecoming

**so...**  
**this is not exactly a crossover more of a "I took the concept of In the flesh and applied it to my musketeers fanfic" type of thing.**

**This series will be composed of 4 fics:**  
** éville: Homecoming-One shot**  
**2.D'Artagnan/constance: Brotherhood and confort: two-shots**  
** /Porthos/Aramis: Title not decided yet: Three shots**  
**4\. Le grand ending: Title not decided: probably one-shot**

**The title of this series may come from Celine Dion's most recent album... I Regret nothing!**

**For those who do not know in the flesh (shame really, it's an amazing show) here are the main points:**  
**-Basically, the plot is post-apocalypse: The government found a cure that stop zombies from needing to eat brain and gave them their conscious back. These PDS are then reintegrated into society.**  
**-The uprising refers to when the dead came out of their graves**  
**-This cure is an injection made at the back of the neck that releases a chemical that allows to rebuild the connections in the brain.**  
**-PDS is the abreviation of "Partially deceased Syndrome" and is the "political" term for Zombie. "rotter" also means Zombie but is offensive.**  
**-Untreated state or rabid means "when they were eating brains". This is either before they were treated or if they forget to take their medecine.**  
**-The HVF "Human Volunteer Force" are the men and Women who took arms and fought during the uprising killing zombies for survival. NOT EVERY HVF MEMBER ARE OPPOSED TO THE REINTEGRATION OF PDS IN SOCIETY. Some of them are, yes, but HVF does not refer to the group against this.**  
**-Physical appearance: Pale skin, white eyes and deformed pupil. They can't eat or drink (internal organs are a mush) no heartbeat. Basically they were rotting when that process was interupted. here have a few pictures: 2014/07/28/suffering-from-partially-deceased-syndrome-in-in-the-flesh/**  
**-They have to wear makeup and contact lenses to look normal**  
**-Treatment center is where they are treated**  
**-This show is amazing. seriously. Go watch.**

**I think this is all I need to say... If there is anything you don't understand, please ask :)**

**enjoy!**

* * *

**Tréville: Homecoming**

At first, when Tréville got the call from the Treatment center, he couldn't believe it. The lady on the other side of the line didn't bother to give him a moment to digest the news and kept explaining in a bored tone all type of stuff he probably should be listening too but didn't hear over his own heartbeat thumping wildly in his chest.

"Will you be taking them in, sir?"

"yes, yes, of course"

He stumbled a bit over his words as he answered a few more questions and the conversation ended before he was finished processing what had happened and what he had agreed to.

_They had been found_

The former captain hung up with trembling hands and took a minute to sit down and breathe. He hadn't dared to hope this would happen and yet it had.

"They're back" he muttered "They're back. They're back!"

A nervous smile crept on his face and he raised his head to fix his stare on a small photograph on top of the mantelpiece. Three faces grinned back at him and his own smile widened.

"You're coming home, boys"

)0(

The first natural thing to do was tell D'Artagnan. The boy had been as close to them as he had and would definitely want to know that his comrades were back. Having him as a neighbor (the one on his left, to be precise) proved to be convenient in this moment. As expected, he took the news really well and certainly didn't take as long as Tréville to have it sink in.

"CONSTANCE" He bellowed, "They're back! They found them!"

Constance's initial annoyance at the screaming melted when she heard the reason for it and the couple started hugging and kissing joyously. Before Tréville had time to fidget, wondering what to do with his person, he was suddenly grabbed by both arms, Constance on one side and D'Artagnan on the other , and dragged inside for a cup of tea.

"When will we go pick them up?" asked D'Artagnan once he had calmed down, not doubting for a second that he was coming with Tréville.

"On Monday"

With a satisfied nod, the young man eased back on his couch and turned his stare outside, his eyes shining as his thoughts turned back to old memories. Constance laid her head on his shoulder in silence and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Tréville left them then, giving them their privacy. He had his own memories he wanted to revisit.

)0(

Athos, Porthos, Aramis. The three inseparables, the best soldiers of his regiment and his biggest cause of headaches. These three had the bad habit of getting themselves in the worst situations possible and still come out laughing, successful and reasonably intact. This had gotten worse when D'Artagnan tagged along and Tréville had been counting the days before they would end up being the death of him.

He hadn't expected them to die first.

It was supposed to be a regular mission except it went horribly wrong and ripped out a chunk of the captain's heart when the three men he had grown so fond of never returned. D'Artagnan never forgave himself, convinced he could have done more despite the fact that he had been wounded and dragged away from danger by Aramis who had then ran back to aid his brothers. _The three inseparables_. Even in death.

Not getting attached to his men was a number one rule in the captain's book, death being a constant companion on the battlefield, and yet he had come to consider these three (and later on D'Artagnan) as the sons he never had.

Their death destroyed him. Both he and D'Artagnan retired and returned to France, hoping to find peace. They weren't lucky.

The following year, was the year of the uprising. As the dead came back to life and started munching on the brains of the living, both men (and Constance for that matter) had to take up arms once again to survive. When the government found the antidote and started "healing" the undead, only then did they notice all those who came back were the ones that had died the year previous to the one of the uprising. D'Artagnan started hoping, Tréville did not dare: Porthos, Athos and Aramis had been buried in the cemetery nearby, their tombs held the signs that _something _had dug its way out but no one had seen them. Tréville didn't want to hope only to find out they had been killed once again.

But then the treatment center called: Three PDS going by the names of Aramis, Athos and Porthos had been found and treated and had named him as a potential carer. Funny how destiny worked.

)0(

D'Artagnan fidgeted in his seat during the entire car ride. Tréville was about to slap him on the back of his head when the treatment center finally came to view. The lad was out before he had properly parked the car.

The two men waited anxiously for a few minutes in a waiting room, witnessing other emotive reunions that only made them more nervous for what was about to come. Would they still be the men they knew? Had death (and resurrection) changed them? A nurse finally came to get them and lead them into another room.

Suddenly, there they were. Athos, Porthos and Aramis turned their heads as one when D'Artagnan and Tréville entered. They stood up like they always had, Athos in the middle Aramis on his right, Porthos on his left, as the nurse left to give them time to talk and for a moment, everybody froze. Tréville looked them over: they looked healthy but the doctors had already told him that they were wearing makeup that gave them their natural skin colour and had contact lenses for their eyes. However, he could guess the row of stiches over Athos' stomach where a knife had ripped him open, the bullet wound where Aramis' heart was supposed to be and the stab wound at the back of Porthos' head, hidden by the Bandana he wore over his head. He bit his lip: these men had deserved peace, not the treatment of a lab rat.

D'Artagnan, bless him, hesitated barely a second before jumping forward and dragging his three big brothers in a hug that they returned with a laugh. This immediately broke the tense atmosphere and Tréville stepped forward to tap them on the shoulder like he used to.

Athos nodded at him, Aramis dragged him in a hug anyways and Porthos laughed and gave him a powerful clap on the back. For a moment, it was like they never left.

)0(

Tréville was trying hard not to lose his patience and snap at the doctor. The man was strolling in the gardens of the center explain various stuff Tréville was _still _not listening to, walking with arrogance, keeping D'Artagnan and the captain at his side whilst the three men they were here for where left to trail behind them like dogs.

D'Artagnan was not happy about that either. He kept throwing glances behind him, wanting nothing more than to slow down and walk besides them.

They gave him reassuring smiles as they kept walking at a regular pace behind. Every so often Tréville would see them brush their hands together in a gesture he knew was meant to bring comfort.

)0(

The car ride back was a lot merrier. Sitting at the back of the car between Porthos and Aramis, D'Artagnan chatted vividly, barely letting them time to answer. Next to him Athos rolled his eyes, looking at his captain for help. Tréville simply shrugged and threw him a glance of his own _see what you left me to deal with_. Athos smirked.

Tréville was amused, yet not surprised when he learned the three had stuck together even in their _untreated state_ and that the medics had not managed to separate them, quickly realizing that the best way to keep them obedient was to keep them together. There was a brief wave of nervousness between the three men when their _untreated state _was mentioned but once again, D'Artagnan saved the day.

"Did they have to knock Porthos out to treat him?" he asked, already grinning.

"No, but you should have seen him! He was clutching our hands so hard we were afraid he would break them!" Exclaimed Aramis.

"I was most certainly _not_" Squawked Porthos

Aramis threw him a stare that cleared said _you certainly were_ before Porthos brought his hand around D'Artagnan to attempt to punch Aramis on the shoulder. There was a quick squabbled with D'Artagnan stuck in the middle.

"Children" Growled Tréville. The two settled down.

Satisfied, the captain turned back to the road. They were nearing town and now the three resurrected soldiers were looking outside in curiosity.

"What's the FHV*?" asked Athos, referring to the various posters and graffitis becoming more and more frequent.

Tréville clenched his jaw and saw D'Artagnan straighten up in what he knew was a protective stance.

"Nothing you need to worry about, I promise."

His behavior discouraged any further questions-for now.

Not everyone agreed with letting people like Athos, Porthos and Aramis back into society, but Tréville was damned if he would let those people bother him and his boys.

)0(

Constance was waiting for them at his house when they arrived. She dragged Athos into a hug, was smothered in Porthos' arms and twirled around by Aramis. She made a point at looking them over properly whilst D'Artagnan and Tréville brought all their stuff inside.

"Makeup really does do miracles" she muttered.

"I'll lend you some of mine if you want" Said Aramis with a grin.

Constance slapped him earning a chuckle from the recipient and a full hearted laugh from Porthos. Athos once again rolled his eyes at their antics and Tréville couldn't hold back his smile at the familiarity of the scene.

Constance ushered everyone to Tréville's dining table that was barely big enough to give space to everyone and placed a full meal of meat and potatoes at the center.

"Not for me, thank you." Said Aramis as she was about to serve him. This earned him a look of surprise.

"We don't eat." Explained Athos. "It's not good for us since our internal organs are a bit... out of function"

The couple oohed in understanding. Next to him, Porthos groaned.

"Shame really. I really like your meals Constance."

D'Artagnan smirked.

"Don't worry, Porthos. I'll eat your share for you"

This earned his a glare from the big man and a laugh from everyone else.

Once dinner was over it was getting late. Constance and D'Artagnan left for their own house after making sure Tréville had everything set up for them and repeating more than once that they were right next door, would visit every day, were expecting them to visit...

Tréville gently ushered them out under the amused looks of his men, then gave them a tour of his house.

)0(

Tréville's instincts were proved to be right once again when Athos, Porthos and Aramis told him they preferred to stick together for the night.

Tréville told them he had only prepared one room anyways, their relieved smiles was a reward by itself.

)0(

Tréville was surprised the next morning by a knock on his door. Outside a pretty blonde woman with deep blue eyes was waiting for him.

"My name is Ninon DeLarocque and I am this town's PDS care helper. I'm here to teach you how to give them their medicine"

Without further ado, she pushed her way in, made her way to the living room and started getting material out of her bag. A bit at loss, Tréville climbed up the stairs to wake up Athos and the other two. He found them debating whether or not to apply their makeup and contact lenses.

"Leave that and come down" Said Tréville. "A lady is here to instruct me about your medicine."

Ninon was waiting for them in the middle of the living room. With her high heels, short blue dress and stern look, the captain found her a bit intimidating but there was a certain tenderness in her eyes that told him she was there to help.

"Right, boys" She said "You know the rules: if Monsieur Tréville is not bothered, you do not need to wear the makeup but to go outside, it is mandatory"

All four of them turned an expectant stare at him. Tréville looked at his boys' pale skin and white eyes with only a black stripe in the middle as a pupil and shrugged figuring it was something he could easily get used to.

"Do what you want, I don't mind"

Ninon nodded, looking quite satisfied with his answer and picked up a small case for the table that she handed to Tréville.

"This is all the material that you need to give their medication. You have to give them their injections every day at the same time or there could be complications."

Tréville opened the case and found something that looked like a hot glue gun and tubes of a transparent liquid.

"I'll show you how to use that"

She took the materials from his hands and headed towards Athos who was sitting on the couch. She placed himself behind him and indicated to Tréville to do the same. She placed the tube in the gun, gently lowered Athos collar as the man braced himself on the couch to reveal a small hole at the top of the spine. She placed the gun against it pressed and gently took it away. Tréville couldn't help but notice the small flinch, but the lack of reaction from Aramis and Porthos told him this was a normal occurrence.

"You try it now"

He imitated Ninon's movements for Porthos and Aramis and everything went smoothly.

"They can do it to themselves if they want to. As long as it's regular, there is no problem"

Ninon packed her stuff and Tréville accompanied her to the door. Before she left, she turned towards him and placed a hand on his arm.

"I am entitled by the law to give you this, which is ridiculous, if you ask me but they will be taken away if you don't have one"

She handed him a Taser that Tréville took with a grimace.

"I would also be careful, the people around him tend to be... closed minded about this whole thing. Richelieu is convinced they are demons and has organised patrols" she sighed. "Be careful with them"

"I can handle Richelieu, don't worry, and so can they. But I will"

"If you need any help or have questions, come and see me." She smiled "I have three of them as well."

With those final words, she left, crossing D'Artagnan on her way down.

"Who was that?" he asked

"Help."

With that, he shoved the Taser in a drawer and headed back for his kitchen where his breakfast was still waiting. He quietly sipped at his cup of coffee, listening to D'Artagnan being interrogated about his marriage with the woman previously known as Madame Bonacieux.

)0(

Richelieu and Tréville were lifelong rivals and sworn enemies. Richelieu had been the advisor of Tréville's boss and the captain of a rival regiment and the two men often found themselves at each other's throats for various reasons, mostly because they were always ready to have opposite opinions. They hated each other's guts.

Richelieu not long before Tréville for "personal" reasons the captain did not bother to ask more details about. He had been too happy to be rid of him. Unfortunately, fate was a wicked mistress and the two found themselves in the same town. Neighbors. Richelieu was now the vicar of town and Tréville's neighbor on the left but their pride being stronger than their hate for each other, none of the two men wanted to move. That would be handing victory to the other on a silver plate. The result was composed of screaming duels, spying from the window facing the other's house, regular projectiles of liter on the other's lawn and whose-music-could-be-the-loudest competitions. Most people stayed out of it and didn't dare complain. D'Artagnan regularly helped Tréville, mostly by providing heavy metal music which always defeated Italian opera.

This also explained why Richelieu was on to him as soon as Ninon left his house.

"Are you collecting rotters now Tréville?"

The captain internally cringed at the offensive term and proceeded to roll his garbage on the sidewalk to be collected. He made a point of placing it neatly before turning to face the vicar standing on his lawn with his hands crossed behind him.

"Whatever gave you this idea?" he sighed

"Madame DeLarocque is known to... sympathize with the cause of these demons. Her sudden visit to your house is rather suspicious."

"I'm sure it is. Fortunately, I don't happen to care"

Tréville turned to head back to his house which would usually end the conversation but Richelieu was in a good mood today.

"Didn't you lose your three favourites the year before the uprising? Are you waiting for the phone call that will suddenly bring them back or have their career of brain munchers already ended? I could always... pray for their souls, God knows they need it."

"Their _soul_ is perfectly fine, Aramis made sure of that. As for their brain munching careers, yes it has ended. I only regret they didn't get yours before."

With those words, he left determined to stay in a good mood and ignored Richelieu's threat being thrown his way.

"I will find out! I will find out and what is left of their brains will be decorating the sidewalk before you can even blink!"

"The only brain that will be plastering the side walk is yours is you keep disturbing my peace, you uncultured swine!"

Tréville closed his door with a sigh and entered the main hall to see three grown men crowded in front of the window looking towards Richelieu's house. Aramis and Porthos were chuckling, most likely at the Vicar's offended face but Athos turned to him upon his entrance.

"Nice to see you still have that fire in you, captain" he said

His face was neutral but Tréville recognize the tone as the one Athos used when he was proud of something or someone.

"Yes well, someone has to stand to that imbecile or he'd turn the whole town into a sect"

)0(

Tréville deeply respected Athos. He was a silent man but had that power to convey so many words in a look or a posture which explained why the others considered him as their leader even if technically they were all on the same level. Despite the drinking and the ghosts of the past that clung to him like chains, he always seemed to _know_ what to do, he had a plan. Aramis, Porthos and D'Artagnan always turned to him for advice and approval like one seeks the affection of a father. Richelieu could scream all he wanted; Athos was the same man dead, alive or undead. Minus the drinking. Poor man could only look at the bottle and sigh: apparently death was something you had to face sober.

)0(

Athos, Porthos and Aramis managed to stay put in the house for an entire week, a bloody miracle. They spent their days reading, watching TV, talking with D'Artagnan and Constance, helping around the house and just generally keeping their captain company (because despite not being one anymore, he was still their captain). Their reckless and adventurous nature quickly caught up with.

Tréville wasn't surprised when he came home that day after a quick trip to the grocery store only to find it empty. Despite knowing in the back of his mind this would eventually happen, he couldn't help the cold feeling of dread that coursed up his spine. They were _outside_ in a small town where people were still refusing the presence of PDS and were downright aggressive about it (thanks to bloody Richelieu). He grabbed a gun that he tucked in a holster hanging at his belt and ran out. Making sure he wasn't looking too panicked he circled around town asking himself where he would go were he an undead soldier with two friends glued at the hip and always up for anything. He found them at the cemetery.

They were sitting down on the wet grass in front of their graves. Stopping close enough to see them but far enough not to be seen Tréville felt all anxiousness melt away. Porthos was sitting between his two friends and had a firm arm around their waist, his head was on Aramis' who had his on his shoulder and was curled in a ball at his side. Athos also had his head on Porthos' shoulder but his legs were sprawled in front of him and he was drawing small circles in the small of the big man's back. Tréville could guess all their hands were linked in front of them despite not being able to see them: this slightly intimate position was one they often found themselves in.

He observed them a few minutes, and then decided to leave. They deserved their peace. They would be fine.

)0(

Porthos always impressed Tréville. He was a strong man, both physically and emotionally and yet, always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeves. He was that big comfort blanket, always trying to shield his friends from all the hurts of the world and hating more than anything to be powerless. Tréville knew this was somehow related to a childhood in an abusive or at least neglecting household and the loss of a mother and he was glad the man had decided to open up instead of curling inside himself and rot there. He was the lion running free and the thunderstorm wiping all in his path.

)0(

Tréville had left Athos, Porthos and Aramis at Constance's and D'Artagnan's house whilst he was working his shift at the police station. He was on his way home when he decided to make quick stop at the pub to eat, because anyways he would be eating alone and didn't want to bother Constance for a meal. Just as he sat down, two FHV entered as well and sat down at the table next to him, exchanging rabid PDS hunt stories and various offensive anecdotes. Tréville had nothing against FHV in particular, but the extremist ones like those two who were downright offensive and aggressive, he could not stand. Decided on ignoring them, he turned his attention to the menu when one of their walkie-talkies rang.

_In need for assistance, rotter alert on Rue Lafontaine._

Rue Lafontaine.

That was his street.

In a blur, all thoughts of a meal fled away and he was up and running under the pouring rain towards D'Artagnan's house to warn them and protect the three men he could not bear to lose again. He found them all in the living room playing a board game.

"We need to hide them, quick" he said pointing at Athos, Porthos and Aramis. "Richelieu's men got a tip and are heading for this street."

At once, Constance and D'Artagnan were up and running. She led them upstairs to hide them in a bedroom whilst he and D'Artagnan collected their old guns.

When the FHV arrived in the street, Constance was covering the back door, D'Artagnan was at a window, surveying the street and Tréville had planted himself at the door hoping the boys upstairs were _hiding _and not doing something stupid like looking out the window. Nobody could have guessed the events that followed.

Richelieu came up to their door and calmly knocked. Hiding his gun behind him and forcing himself to look calm Tréville went to open, sensing D'Artagnan tense besides him.

"Good evening Tréville" Said Richelieu. "You and your two little friends might want to come out and see this"

He turned away and went to stand in the middle of the street, his umbrella making his shadow on the pavement all the more menacing. He nodded at two of his men who proceeded to break down the door of the house in front and enter. They came out a few seconds later dragging a woman and throwing her at the vicar's feet. Upon closer observation, Tréville realised this was Madame Mauvoisin who happened to have died a few month before the rising.

"NO!"

Out of the house, Monsieur Mauvoisin came running. He was grabbed by the arms and held in place by one of FHV before he could reach his wife.

"Well, well Monsieur" Said Richelieu "and here I thought you were a faithful follower of my church. Thank God I do not trust easily and quickly found out that you were harboring this... monster."

He wiped out a gun of his trench coat and placed it at the back of Madame Mauvoisin's head.

"Please, Monsieur! She has done nothing wrong!"

"Nothing wrong? She's a rotter! Everything is wrong with that! Or are you telling me this is not Madame Mauvoisin whom I last remember seeing in a coffin?"

"No... no... it's not her... It's her sister!"

"ah, her sister."

For a second, Richelieu seemed to accept the explanation but his features hardened immediately after and he took of the safety of the gun.

"Of course"

Tréville felt Constance and D'Artagnan also watching behind him and knew that they were both horrified and enraged by how powerless they were.

"Please, Monsieur" pleaded Madame Mauvoisin gently, "I take my medicine every day, I stay home, I pray... I won't do anything bad, I promise"

Richelieu retrieved his gun and kneeled before her.

"Tell me Madame, why do your eyes look like mine?" He asked in a gentle voice, Tréville knew was a subterfuge.

"I'm wearing my contact lenses" she replied

"Can you take them off for me?"

"NO, Don't do it!"

Ignoring her husband he gently nodded at her in encouragement. Slowly she brought her hands to her face and took the lenses off revealing her blank eyes and deformed pupil.

"That's better" Said Richelieu, smilling.

She smiled back, he got up and Promptly shot her in the head. Her head smashed on the road in a puddle of black blood and brain matter. Monsieur Mauvoisin was released and he ran towards her, sobbing.

"Once a Rotter, Always a Rotter!" shouted Richelieu.

He turned and made eye contact with Tréville, his gaze holding an underlined threat. Tréville made his equally menacing then turned to usher the shocked couple in. He went upstairs to see how the boys were faring and saw them tangled together on the bed.

Of course, they had seen everything.

)0(

Tréville admired Aramis. Unlike Porthos and Athos he had built a façade of smiles and laughs behind which he hid constantly. The only ones to have ever climbed over it were his two closest brothers. D'Artagnan had come close but the process had been interrupted rather brutally by the death of his friends. What Tréville Really admired though, was the faith Aramis had in God, his friends and himself. Despite the bad days, he truly believed everyone had a chance of redemption and not just in a religious way. He gave hope, he sewed people back together and pushed them back on their way. Tréville didn't believe in God, but he could in Aramis'.

)0(

Porthos, Athos and Aramis came home one day, carrying a drunk D'Artagnan from the pub. Tréville did not have time to lament over the fact that now it was certain Richelieu knew about them that D'Artagnan had emptied the content of his stomach on his carpet and he decided he was too tired to care. The next morning, a very much hung-over D'Artagnan explained that they had received a call from the treatment center. Monsieur Bonacieux had been found and Constance, the saint, had accepted to take him in (poor woman still felt guilty of his death even if it was not her fault at all).

Tréville did not know the details of the emotionally abusive relationship of Constance and her ex-husband, but he knew enough not to like it. Judging by their suddenly protective stance, the others didn't either.

For mental support and because there was no way D'Artagnan would let Constance alone with HIM again, he went with her when she went to pick him up. Tréville let himself be dragged by his three men to their house while they were gone and simply took a seat and opened the daily news to read them whilst the others came up with a plan. They sat on the couch, makeup and contacts off and waited. When Bonacieux was heard outside- Already complaining- they straightened up. Tréville looked on, amused, as Aramis got up, put an arm around the man's shoulders and flashed him his best I'm-being-lovely- now- but –will- punch –you- so- hard –as –soon- as- I get –the- chance smile. He was forcefully sat between Athos and Porthos who turned to face him and the three proceeded to state all the conditions he had to respect and the consequences of not respecting these conditions.

D'Artagnan and Constance looked relieved, Bonacieux scared witless and Tréville felt enormously proud.

)0(

Between the three of them, they had a soul, a heart and a head. That was enough for a man to be complete. That made them inseparable. Like puzzle pieces.

)0(

Things were normal. Athos, Porthos and Aramis made it clear they would not let the threat of Richelieu put an end to their happiness and started to get out more. They often found themselves at the pub, the cemetery or even at the Grocery store, sometimes on their own, most of time dragging D'Artagnan along and sometimes tagging along with Tréville or Constance. Every once in a while, they would go "keep company" to Bonacieux and made sure he kept his end of the deal.

The Captain let them. They were grownups after all and was confident they could fend off for themselves. That didn't stop him from keeping a close eye on Richelieu.

The two men kept their routine of screaming duels, spying from the window facing the other's house, regular projectiles of liter on the other's lawn and whose-music-could-be-the-loudest competitions to the great amusement of the three boys who often found themselves being the subject discussed and the glad spectators of this showdown.

Every once in a while, Tréville would receive an add warning against PDS sufferers turning rabid again, he would find a journal page with the gory story of a PDS returned to his family and eating their brains soon after and in the street would hear the followers of Richelieu's church gossip. He would simply burn the adds, tape the journal page with the requirements of someone looking for a sexual partner on Richelieu's door and glare at everyone talking behind his back.

At the end of the day, he would play cards with Porthos (making sure he wasn't cheating), discussing literature with Athos, philosophy with Aramis and eating dinner with Constance and D'Artagnan.

That was enough, for now. He kept hope.

* * *

***FHV is the abreviation of "Force Humaine Volontaire" Which is the french version of "Human volunteer force (HVF). Since they live in France I decided it made more sense if a french abreviation was used.**

**The only scene I took from the show is the one where Richelieu shoots Madame Mauvoisin (well, except for the names of course)**

**There are a lot more details about a lot of things coming, a lot of fluff and cuddles and angst as well! Ask away if you have any questions... I will anwser provided the anwser will not be in a future fic!**

**Comments are always apreciated, tell me what you think! Tellllll meeeee!**

**Next part, comming soon, (Dun, Dun, Dun)**


	2. D'Artagnan: Brotherhood

**Aaaaaaaand here it is! Sorry this took so long, next chapter will be here sooner, I promise!**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

**D'Artagnan's family gets destroyed then rebuilt.**

**Constance finally sets herself free.**

* * *

**D'Artagnan: Brotherhood**

D'Artagnan remembered waking up in a hospital bed on the most horrible day of his life. The room was empty safe for Tréville who was sitting at the foot of his bed, face hidden in his hands in the most emotionally revealing position D'Artagnan ever saw him in. This should have started an alarm in his head, but there was already quite a lot of ringing up there and he was a bit slow. At first, things were fuzzy and blurry, his memories were like mashed potatoes and it took some time and quite some effort to fight the weariness off and to rebuild everything. But then he remembered everything, vividly, and what he remembered would haunt his nightmares for years to come. The mission, the attack, the explosion, Aramis dragging him away and then darkness. Deep, deep darkness.

"Where are the others?"

He had to put all his energy in forcing the question out and it rose barely over a rough murmur. In the silence of the room, however it echoed like a sneeze would during an exam and Tréville jumped only then realizing he had woken up.

"Where are they?" Repeated D'Artagnan, dread coiling the pit of his stomach.

They were supposed to be in beds close by or sitting nearby, if well enough to stand but the room was as empty as the look in Tréville's eyes. That look told him everything, but he did not want to believe it.

"They did not make it"

Suddenly, everything was too real and D'Artagnan longed for darkness again.

)0(

As soon as his broken ribs, concussion and gash in the leg were healed enough to stand, D'Artagnan was out of bed. The first thing he did was asked to see the bodies despite Tréville's attempts to dissuade him- he would be better off with the memory of them alive and healthy, he said but D'Artagnan was convinced it would give him closure. It did not.

Standing alone in the morgue, the three bodies of his friends, his _big brothers, _pale and cold laid out in front of him, all Charles D'Artagnan felt was that he had failed them. Athos had twelve nasty stitches across the stomach (Aramis would have been offended by such work) that held closed a wound that would never heal- he had been gutted in one clean strike that probably left him bleeding in agony for a few long seconds. Porthos had three equally cringed worthy stitches at the back of his head- the knife, that same knife that had ended Athos, had been shoved into the soft part at the back of the cranium and twisted; destroying the whole length of the brain in the process. No one had bothered covering the hole in Aramis' heart- a clean shot, a quick end unlike his two brothers but somehow, D'Artagnan doubted it had been any less painful.

Tréville found him staring numbly at the bodies when he entered and came to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. The two men stayed silent a minute to honour and grieve their fallen friends then Tréville handed D'Artagnan a sheet of paper.

"I have given in my retirement sheet. My last duty as your captain is to tell you, you have a similar option- as a soldier diagnosed with PTSD you may choose to follow therapy and return to your duties later on, or you can head home."

D'Artagnan was lost and tired and home sounded like such a nice word. He left with Tréville.

)0(

They were buried quietly on a snowy day. There was a priest because Aramis would have wanted it, and they were buried like soldiers, with white crosses as headstones. D'Artagnan placed a bunch of chrysanthemums on the freshly overturned soil and Tréville hung their medals on the crosses. The captain- he would be called Captain, out of respect and habit- had quickly turned around to head back to his empty house leaving his soldier standing alone in the silent cemetery (D'Artagnan would later learn that it was on that day that he had discovered that Richelieu had just moved in next door and that the shock of it would save him from a night of drunken stupor). It was only then- alone in front of three lonely tombstone is a cemetery in the woods- that he noticed the petite figure, also dressed all in black, skirts and coat swirling around her, walking towards him. Constance Bonacieux gently placed her own bouquets of chrysanthemums next to D'Artagnan's then turned to face him and leaned to kiss him gently on the cheek.

"I saw the names in the newspaper and I... I had to come"

The young man simply nodded silently; too numb to do anything else and so afraid that she was only another ghost of the graveyard in his heart. She seemed to understand because she didn't say anything more and gently took his hands to stir him towards her car, away from the cold and the dead. Suddenly, death no longer was his only companion.

Her house was right next door to Tréville's, he noted as she pushed him in, took his coat off and sat him down on the couch with the gentle authority D'Artagnan always remembered she had. The last time he had seen Constance was the day before he returned to duty (he and the others had had a two-week permission and had spent it in Athos' hometown). On that day when she had told him everything was over between them because her husband had threatened with suicide should she leave him. He remembered pleading with her, offering to leave the army to stay with her, but she was too afraid and had refused.

"Is Monsieur Bonacieux still around?" he asked, voice rough, as Constance started preparing tea in the kitchen. Mentioning Monsieur in the very first words he addressed her was maybe not the best idea, but D'Artagnan was tired.

"He is, but less and less" She answered seemingly not disturbed. Her answer was not surprising, the man always believed he was important which resulted in him working long hours. The house itself was Constance's more than it was his, not only was she the owner but the way it was decorated screamed her name. D'Artagnan liked it. She came back with two cups of tea, handed him one and sat next to him on the couch.

"I can't believe they are gone" She said. He shook his head.

"They didn't deserve to die like this. They were still young, they still had their wits and energy... they did not deserve to die like this!"

She placed a hand on her shoulder and simply answered "I know".

That was enough for D'Artagnan. His head fell on her shoulder and, for the first time, he sobbed. She simply held him.

)0(

By the time the night of the uprising came, Monsieur Bonacieux was out of the picture and D'Artagnan had moved into her house. That night, they were celebrating their one week wedding anniversary, one week where happiness didn't seem so impossible, one week where the nightmares were kept at bay.

The couple was enjoying a quiet glass of wine while watching _The Notebook_ when they heard a commotion at their door. It was past midnight and in this almost boring town everyone was already asleep. D'Artagnan barely had time to make the decision to go check when their door crashed open and in stumbled the very first rabid of many they would encounter. The zombie saw them and immediately jumped towards them, catching D'Artagnan by the waist and dragging him to the floor. Still on the couch, Constance screamed, then ran towards the kitchen as her husband tried wrestling the thing off of him. It had just gotten a grip on his hair when she ran back in and stabbed him clean through the head. It fell; dead once more and D'Artagnan shoved the uncomfortable weight off him.

"How did you that?" he asked, breathless.

"I'm not sure" She replied equally shocked, "I did like in all those movies..."

D'Artagnan turned the body around to take a look at its face and Constance gasped

"My God, this is Monsieur Lemieux. He died last year of cardiac arrest!"

The man had an extremely pale skin that was turning green at some places, his eyes were white and glossy with two small dots as pupils, hair was falling off and black goo was spilling out of the stab wound inflicted by Constance and by the mouth.

"Well, he's dead now" answered D'Artagnan.

At that moment Tréville barged in holding a long sword that had apparently belonged to one of his ancestors in one hand and his gun in the other. He seemed relieved for a moment to see them alright then signaled them to hurry

"They are everywhere, grab a weapon, we're going to find a place to hide"

They spent the entire following year in Constance's and D'Artagnan's basement. Whilst the young man had wished for something to distract him from his own self-destructing feelings, this was a bit much. They took turns at night to stand guard but often found themselves all wide awake to the sound of groaning, fighting and screaming outside. When needed, all three of them got out to search for food and this quickly became a competition between others who were fighting for their lives. Constance, who had never held a weapon in her life quickly became one of the best fighters in town and more than once saved a life, and the sight of her holding a weapon was something that D'Artagnan loathed and admired at once. After two months of hiding and seeing it was not about to wind down, the trio finally managed to summon the courage to go check the cemetery. Athos, Aramis and Porthos were no longer in their graves.

"Do you think..."started D'Artagnan

"...That they are out there? I don't know lad, I don't think I want to know" Cut in Tréville

"I don't understand what is happening" Stated Constance "This is one twisted test of fate. Why bring your loved ones back if it's to make them into killers and beasts?"

No one had an answer. The following days, they saw no sign of them and tried to forget. Despite that, killing became slightly harder because it was someone's loved one they were slaying like dogs, and someone out there could be slaying their own. Tréville decided not to hope, D'Artagnan clinged to that hope and Constance simply waited.

It became almost a reflex. You saw the thing run towards you, raise the gun, shoot. Stab the head, twist. And repeat.

When no governmental help came and the FHV was created the three considered joining but seeing it was more of an offensive corps, led by Richelieu, they decided out, the thought of their friend's empty grave at the forefront of their minds. When finally, the existence of a cure was announced, they were amongst the first to capture and sent rabids to treatment centers. Two years after the uprising, walking in the streets was relatively safe again.

)0(

Finding Tréville still in his pajamas and out of breath on his door step was a sight to behold. D'Artagnan would always remember it even if it didn't involve the happiest news of his life (Right after Constance saying 'yes' to his proposal, of course).

"They found them" He said "They were found, captured and treated at the nearby treatment center. They're fine and they are coming home"

There was no need to say who 'they' were.

)0(

Constance had work that day, but he had called in sick to go spend the day at Tréville's. He was slightly surprised to see a young blond women walking out of Tréville's house (Tréville did not have a habit of seeking companions, male or female)

"Who was that?" he asked

"Help." Answered Tréville.

D'Artagnan watched him shove a Taser in a drawer with barely concealed surprise but didn't get to ask any more: the captain went back to his kitchen. D'Artagnan shrugged and entered the living room where his three friends were sprawled over the couch. Porthos was sitting propped up against the armrest, one leg dangling off the couch, the other stuck between the back of the couch and the bodies of his two friends. He had his hands in Aramis' hair whilst the man was lying between his legs. Athos was on the other side, facing them, legs tangled in a mess of limbs, head on the armrest and reading. He was slightly surprised about the lack of makeup or lenses, but had no time to dwell on it: upon his entry, Aramis sat up.

"D'Artagnan! Come here, my friend, I have plenty of things to ask you!"

His smile was slightly _too_ excited for D'Artagnan's liking but he sat down nonetheless. Porthos grabbed Aramis by hair and dragged him back down.

"Careful D'Artagnan" he grunted playfully. "You're in for an interrogation."

Aramis swatted at his hands and briefly looked up, offended, at him before settling down in a more comfortable position and turning a calculating stare towards the youngest of his brothers.

"So. Constance?"

Of course.

"Well, we're married." The Gascon answered.

"Yes I know that!" Aramis waved his hand dismissively, knocking Athos' book with the gesture which earned him a glare that he completely ignored. "Last I knew, however, _marriage_ was a distant plan since she was already with someone. This uptight and rude man- what was him name?"

"Jacques" said Athos.

"Yes! Jacques Bonacieux! I have to admit, I am impressed, D'Artagnan. You went from having an affair to getting married! I feel so proud"

"It was her decision really" Answered D'Artagnan, cheeks slightly red from pride.

"Of course it was." Laughed Porthos. He grabbed one of Aramis' curls again and twirled it around his fingers, the other hand lightly wrapping itself around Athos' ankle. "Constance would never have done anything she wouldn't want, although it did take her a while to kick that wimp out."

The four friends nodded thoughtfully and D'Artagnan was reminded that Athos and Porthos were just as noisy and curious as Aramis- they just let him do the talking because he generally managed to gather more information.

"What happened to him anyways?" Asked Athos, finally abandoning faking disinterest. "Left on a holy mission to sell his fabric elsewhere?"

D'Artagnan grimaced at that.

"No, actually, he's dead."

There was a second of silence, then:

"Please don't tell me you killed him? I taught you better than that" moaned Aramis.

"Don't be a fool" The four ex-soldiers looked up as their captain entered the room. "He died in a car accident. Well, that's the official statement anyways."

Triplet stares turned back at him and D'Artagnan swallowed. Interrogation indeed.

)0(

Two weeks later, D'Artagnan could no longer avoid work without risking getting fired. That morning, he was getting ready to go to the police station and face his boss when he was startled by a knock at the door. Expecting to see the mailman or the grocer, finding Athos standing on his front porch was definitely a surprise.

"Athos? What are you doing here?!" The Gascon grabbed his friend by the arm, and dragged him inside worried to see he wasn't wearing any of his makeup or lenses and glancing outside to make sure no one else had seen him. That's when he noticed Aramis and Porthos, joyously waving at Monsieur Mauvoisin who was glaring at them from the other side of the street. They didn't have any makeup either.

"Relax, D'Artagnan" Said Athos from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The good Monsieur has been glaring at Aramis and Porthos since the very first summer they spent here with me."

In the street, the two men laughed as Monsieur Mauvoisin disapprovingly shook his head and stalked back to his own house. They calmly made their way to the house, still laughing, but were quickly grabbed by a nearly panicked D'Artagnan who hurriedly closed the door behind them.

"Congratulate Constance on the interior decoration for me, would you? She truly did an amazing job!" commented lightly Aramis, looking around, impressed.

D'Artagnan barely heard him, too busy looking out his window waiting to see an angry mob coming towards his house.

"We made sure Richelieu was no longer home before getting out, lad" Interrupted Porthos. "We are not that suicidal"

The young man left his spot at the window and turned around to face his three friends who were watching him, undisturbed.

"WHY, would you come out without your makeup?" he asked almost pleadingly. The trio seemed to tense slightly.

"Does it bother you?" Asked Aramis.

"Me? No, of course not. Constance and the Captain neither, but the rest of the town? Yes. Definitely. They see you and they'll be at your door ready to send you back in your graves!"

"That is not reason enough for us to hide." Said Athos.

"What's that?"

"We stay coped up inside all day and night and when we want to get out it takes us half an hour to put the damn makeup on our faces and it still doesn't look like we're properly alive! That's not the way we want to live our second life." Explained Porthos.

"We are aware" interrupted Aramis before D'Artagnan could reply, "That the Captain, Constance and yourself want to keep us safe. But we can take care of ourselves and we are still being careful, despite what you may think."

D'Artagnan looked at them one by one and sighed.

"There really is no way I can convince you to put the makeup?"

"It's stuffy and restrictive! And the lenses! My eyes would itch all day if I could feel anything!" declared Aramis

Porthos and Athos nodded in agreement.

"What does the captain have to say to this?"

"He agrees"

"Does he now?"

"Yes."

"Have you actually told him about you brilliant little plan."

"We have. Implicitly."

Back in his house, Tréville swore loudly when he saw the bathroom garbage full of the makeup and contact lenses his men were supposed to be currently wearing.

)0(

D'Artagnan was fidgeting nervously in his plastic chair, eyes constantly darting towards the clock in nervous apprehension. A firm and gentle hand gripped his knee, stopping the jackhammer routine of his leg.

"Calm down" murmured Constance in his ear. "This will be good for you even if you may not think it."

"I do not need to go to a therapy session supposed to help me cope with the return of my three dead best friends!" he hissed in reply.

The hand gently tapped his knee and a kiss was deposited on his ear.

"No, but you need to see that you are not alone." His wife eased back in her chair, cutting all his protests with a look. At that moment, Ninon entered the room and smiled at the small assembly reunited in front of her.

"Welcome everyone" she said. "I am glad to see so many of you could make it; I hope this session will of help to us all."

For the first time since he entered the room, D'Artagnan turned around and was left slightly chocked to see so many of his fellow townspeople. Constance smiled at him and leaned back further in her chair as the session started.

"At first, I was afraid of my own son. How is that even possible? How could I be afraid of the little boy I gave birth to and raised? It took me a few days, but eventually I noticed that death had not changed him. He is still my little boy."

"Stubborn ass he was, and stubborn ass he still is! I'm a bit bummed out that he can no longer hold his drink, but other than that..."

"Fear is the strangest of things. At first, I was afraid she'd turn rabid again and smash my skull to eat my brain, but... recently, I realised that this was no longer it. Truth is, I'm bloody terrified to lose her again and the thought that... that one my fellow townspeople could be the one too... I don't want to be a control freak, but I'm just so afraid..."

The testimonies were more relevant than D'Artagnan imagined they would be, and he understood why Constance had insisted for him to come. He had to make an effort not to cry. When the session came to an end, he grabbed Constance by the shoulder and landed a peck at her lips.

"Don't wait up" he said against her hair as he hugged her, "there is something I have to do."

His wife smiled in her usual understanding way, and he darted away. D'Artagnan found his friends sitting on Tréville's front porch and they rose to their feet when they saw him approaching.

"D'Artagnan!" Called Aramis "how was the Therapy session?"

He didn't answer and instead stunned them all by dragging them into a hug.

"We're going to the pub" The Gascon simply said in response to their interrogative stares when he released them.

)0(

Porthos, Athos and Aramis were over at Constance's and D'Artagnan's house whilst Tréville had to spend the day out. The group was playing to _LIFE _on the floor of the living room when a banging at the door interrupted them. D'Artagnan opened to find Tréville soaked to the bone having obviously ran under the rain. The usually extremely courteous man pushed his way inside and to the living room.

"We need to hide them, quick" he said pointing at Athos, Porthos and Aramis. "Richelieu's men got a tip and are heading for this street."

D'Artagnan felt his blood run cold. Quickly, his protective instincts kicked in and he was ushering his three friends to their feet and leading them upstairs to the master bedroom.

"Stay there and stay put!" He told them, closing the door behind him.

He knew, of course, that they wouldn't 'stay put' but it was worth the try. The only thought rambling about in his head as he helped Constance and Tréville collect a few weapons and placed himself near a window was 'please, God, don't take them away again'.

)0(

Instead of driving them into hiding, Richelieu's showdown with the Mauvoisins broke down any precautions the three men had left. They no longer bothered avoiding Richelieu or his followers, spending as much time in town as any other person. They went shopping, drinking, walking in the park... All of which without makeup on. Aramis was ecstatic to realise he could smoke and took a special delight in telling passerby's if they glared at them too long that 'he was already dead anyways', deliberately diverting their malevolent thoughts from his lovers. Porthos took extra care to drag his two friends on a morning jog even if it meant having them cycle next to him or having to pull them as they stood up on a skateboard. Athos often brought a book of poetry or his violin to the park and would read to his lovers or play them a song.

This tended to attract a lot of attention, yet nothing happened. Despite what Richelieu said, the three boys had once been admired and respected in this town and who they were left people enable to act on their cruel intentions. What did happen, however, was that other PDS sufferers followed on their lead and slowly made themselves known.

)0(

D'Artagnan was expecting to spend a lazy morning in bed, cuddling with his wife. The high pitch ringing of Constance's phone was not part of the plan. He rolled around and groaned as Constance freed herself from his arms with a slight chuckle at his dramatic reaction.

"Good morning" She answered with a bright smile, one hand holding the phone and the other petting her husband's hair to sooth him. The muffled voice of a lady was heard from the mobile. He hand froze. Her smile fell.

"Are... Are you sure about that?" Constance sat up completely and D'Artagnan turned around to look at her worriedly.

More muffled words came from the phone, Constance remained frozen, only nodding stiffly every once in a while, then finally, the conversation seemed to come to an end.

"Yes, of course…. When should I come pick him up?... Alright, I'll be there."

She hung up but didn't move, her back still to D'Artagnan which was the final alarm bell in her husband's head.

"What happened?" he asked slowly, a hand gently brushing her spine. She caught that hand in hers and turned to bring it to her lips.

"They found him." She sighed. "They found Jacques, and he's been considered fit to be released."

A cold chill washed over D'Artagnan who stiffened.

"And you said… yes?"

She nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"No… no, it's not your fault. I just-"

"No matter what happens, D'Artagnan, I love you and only you, is that clear? I'm not going back to him." She took a deep breath, "Plus, it's only for a short while until he finds himself a proper apartment" Constance continued hastily. She kissed the crown of his head then curled back in his arms.

"I love you." She added.

D'Artagnan smiled despite the clench in his heart and closed his arms around her.

"I love you too."

)0(

D'Artagnan crash landed into a bar as soon as his work day was done. Constance still had two hours of work to go which unfortunately meant there was no one to scowl him. Half an hour later, he was drunk- D'Artagnan had not been drunk since the day Constance had found him rolling under the table in a filthy pub and had lectured him enough to sober him up. If she found him like that now…He didn't even know WHY he was drunk! Yes, he wasn't expecting Jacques to come back in the picture- the man had had his head _smashed _in that car accident- and he knew Constance would not leave him…. But the idea of having the person that had made him and Constance suffer so much in his carefully built sanctuary was unbearable.

The elusive reason of his presence in the bar disappeared completely, however, as he attacked his tenth drink. The world was seriously starting to spin.

"And I thought I was the drunk" Grunted a voice behind him.

D'Artagnan jumped as the stools besides him were suddenly occupied and a hand reached from behind him to confiscate his drink. He relaxed when he realized it was only Athos, Porthos and Aramis.

"You… You… g't drunk…. More… oft'n." he pitifully attempted to reply.

"Yes, I'm sure. But at least I keep some dignity."

"Don't be too harsh on him, Athos!" Porthos' booming voice made D'Artagnan cringe. "I'm sure he has a good explanation"

At that moment, the Gascon's stomach decided it was a convenient time for a mutiny and all the liquor he had consumed found itself on the floor, missing Athos' feet by a hair.

"Perhaps later will be more appropriate to have this conversation?" murmured Aramis helpfully.

D'Artagnan didn't hear any of the other two answer. His body sagged forward and he toppled towards the ground.

Before all went black, he felt two sets of hands grabbing him under the shoulders and lifting him off the ground. _At least I didn't fall in my own vomit_ he though.

)0(

In the end, he went with Constance. Of course he went with Constance. There was no way he'd let Jacques be alone with her for more than was necessary. The car ride to the treatment center was way too short- unlike the one he did with Tréville to get his brothers back- and once they finally arrived, he had to stop a few moments to collect himself. Constance was just as apprehensive as him, if not more, and she tightly gripped his hand for reassurance. D'Artagnan squeezed back, turned to smile at her, and together they marched inside the center.

Jacques was waiting with his bag on his lap. As soon as he was in sigh, D'Artagnan stopped again and grabbed Constance around the waist to drag her in a kiss. She smiled into it and gently caressed his face with the tip of her fingers.

"Try not to punch him" she murmured when he released her.

He almost did. Three times. The man was bearable the first five minutes but that quickly changed and D'Artagnan found himself considering not only punching him- but also leaving him right where he was. They eventually managed to get to the car; D'Artagnan shoved Jacques in the back seat and quickly turned on the music.

The ride back was much longer and so, so much more painful. Music did not fend off Jacques, who. Just. kept. Talking. By the time they were home- his precious home that would be stained by the presence of this man- The Gascon was on the verge of breaking the promise he had made to his wife.

His anger evaporated when they got to the living room. The first thing he noticed was Tréville sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper in a completely detached manner. Then there was his brothers. All three were sat on the couch arms and legs crossed, makeup off, and smirks absolutely terrifying. Next to him, Jacques froze and gasped lightly.

D'Artagnan laughed.

* * *

**This is still a bit slow, but it is building up to something!**  
**Next up: Constance**  
**Then we're moving on with our dear inséparables!**


	3. Constance: Freedom

**Boum have Constance's imput for this series!**

**Graphic descriptions of a car accident in the section where Constance breaks up with Jacques. Can be skipped- read carefully**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

**Constance sets herself free**

* * *

**Constance: Freedom**

Jacques Lemillieux was a sweet man with nothing when she married him. She fell in love with the way his eyes would light up ambitiously and with adoration. She fell in love with the simple attentions she gave him, the flowers, the chocolate, the compliments. She fell in love with him and she said yes when he asked for her hand that afternoon in Nice. He wanted to start over so she accepted to give him her last name, he wanted to open a business so she funded him, he wanted a big house so she found one and named it home…

Now, the thought of _when did it all go wrong _keeps her awake at night.

)0(

"You don't think I'm worthless do you?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why won't you come with me?"

"I already told you: I promised Marine I'd have dinner with her on her birthday. I can't back down now."

"Is this just a plot to get away from me?"

"Oh, honey, no."

"I have a feeling you don't like me anymore! You constantly make excuses to get away, I never get to spend time with you anymore!"

"… Will it make you happy if I stay home with you instead?"

She was yielding too easily, she knew it, but she couldn't help it, Jacques just seemed so sad…

)0(

Athos moved in two houses over a few months after she did. At first, she simply observed him from afar, not paying him anymore attention than she did any of her other neighbors. He was a bit strange… Leaving late in the morning and coming home late at night during the week and not leaving the house at all during the week end. His eyebrows were stuck in a constant frown, he had heavy rings under the eyes and his shoulders were hunch as if he was carrying a heavy weigh on his back. Rumours about him quickly spread in the small town and for a while he was the favourite topic of conversation.

One night, however, she found him at a bar completely drunk and muttering over and over "they're dead, dead, dead" and she couldn't help it: she brought him home. Jacques was away on a trip, thank God, so she was free to put him in their bed and leave a few aspirins on the bedside table whilst she migrated to the couch. The next morning, she was peacefully cooking breakfast when he stumbled out of the room, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders (she had had to undress him: his clothes were soaked and currently put to dry) and a horrified look on his face

"Did I- I mean… did we…?"

Constance couldn't hold back a laugh when she understood what he was worried about. With a twist of the wrist she dumped the eggs on two plates and turned around to place them on the table.

"You don't need to worry about a one night stand. I only found you drunk and decided to take you home to make sure nothing happened to you. Apologies for having worried you. Now sit and eat."

He looked at the plate, contemplating, for few seconds before slowly nodding to himself and sitting down at the place facing hers.

"What's your name?" She asked. The man cleared his throat before answering:

"Athos, Madame" he said

"Athos, nice to meet you. I'm Constance"

He smiled lightly at her.

"Thank you for bringing me home Constance"

"It's no problem"

She waited for him to take bite of his plate before continuing

"So… Athos. Are you a dark mage or a zombie back from the dead?" She asked in reference to the silly stories running town about him.

Athos choked on his eggs and started laughing.

)0(

Athos' presence helped a lot. Two days after Constance brought him to her house, he came knocking to her door and offered her a basket of blueberry cupcakes.

"As a Thank You for care" He said.

They quickly became friends after that. Athos would come by regularly and Constance would often go to his house to make sure he wasn't drinking himself into oblivion. Eventually, his drinking problem did lessen and that meant he started to notice Jacques.

Jacques was not happy of her new friend and often tried to make her tell Athos to leave but that was without counting on Athos himself.

"I don't like the way he treats you."

"It's not that bad."

"It is. You deserve better than this. My wife used to treat me the say and I-"

He choked on the words and didn't continue. Constance looked at him amazed then gripped his hand, tight. She understood then, why she felt so comfortable around him. She was not alone. Despite Jacques protest he kept coming over which, in turn gave her courage and she gradually started going out with her friends more.

One day, Athos came over, fidgeting nervously which was very unlike me. He handed her a recruitment prospectus for the French army.

"I've been thinking about it for a while now…"

Somehow, Constance didn't feel abandoned or sad, she was proud. Proud to see this man finally do something he wanted to do. She made a show of taking a step back, tipping her head to the side and observing him before saying.

"I think you'd look good in uniform".

That was all the encouragements he needed.

The next summer, Athos left only asking her to check on his house every once in a while. He made sure to send postcards, though, and somehow that made it all okay.

)0(

When Athos had his first leave from the military, he came back home with two friends. Porthos and Aramis were bubbles of happiness and fresh air, she immediately liked them. They completed Athos in the same way Athos completed them and Constance knew she was witnessing the first steps of a beautiful friendship.

Monsieur Mauvoisin spent his days glaring at the two and shaking his head in disapproval from his yard but Porthos and Aramis didn't let them perturb them and happily waved back at him. They'd take Athos out for a drink and brink him back sober, they even managed to convince him to play his violin _outside _of the house and were always happy to listen to him play, even if it was the same song over and over. Every Sunday, Aramis would go to church and come back just in time to find a table with breakfast all set up. Porthos would often do exercises in the garden and would always manage to drag both of his friend in a little wrestling competition. He would always claim victory by sitting on them and waving to an imaginary crowd, Athos or Aramis (depending on his victim of the day) laying exhausted under him.

She also heard a lot about Captain Tréville which she eventually met over Skype one day as she was visiting. He asked her how on earth she managed to handle the three lunatics and she offered him a few stories to use as blackmail. They went along rather well.

Some nights, she would see them sitting outside on Athos' front porch, staring up at the stars and sharing a glass of wine. She noticed how Aramis would curl up, like a cat, between his two friends, how Porthos would wrap two strong arms around both of his friends and how Athos would hold their hands.

A beautiful friendship indeed, and perhaps a lot more, if Constance's guts were correct.

)0(

The trio made it a habit to come visit each time they had a few weeks off from duty and that is how Constance, 5 years after meeting Porthos and Aramis, came to meet D'Artagnan.

They had gone through a lot, in five years, with the disaster of the Savoy mission, Athos' family running after him for money and Porthos' mother dying but they had held fast. Their friendship only grew stronger and now, they came home with a new addition.

They liked to compare him with a puppy and Constance quickly understood why. He was constantly excited, enjoyed life for all its details but also had a sense of professionalism that made him absolutely charming. They became friends immediately and she fell in love faster than the speed of light. At first, she didn't want to act on it, she was a married woman! But D'Artagnan was patient and courted her with small attentions. Flowers, food, helping around, running a few errands… He was waiting for her, yet taking care of her more than Jacques did and it didn't feel like he was actually expecting something.

"He doesn't even realise he's doing it!" had told Aramis, chuckling lightly. "He's completely head or heals for you-"

Porthos had to clamp a heavy hand over the Spaniard's mouth to stop him from revealing any more, and let faith run its course but the important had been said.

October was a cold month but as Constance shared her first kiss with a blushing D'Artagnan and her heart beating wildly in her chest, she felt warm.

Every time D'Artagnan came to visit, he and Constance would run off somewhere in town and she would fall in love over and over again. Of course, Jacques eventually discovered it and the day before D'Artagnan left for duty again he confronted her about it.

"Promise you'll stay with me" He asked sobbing, "I wouldn't be able to live without you! Please promise you'll stay, if you leave I'll kill myself!"

When D'Artagnan came over the next day to say goodbye, she asked if she could have a word with him and dropped her bomb. Constance never knew it was so easy to destroy a person and as he walked away, his heart shattered to pieces she hated herself for being such a coward.

)0(

The next time the inseparables came back, three were in coffins and the fourth was drifting away slowly. Constance immediately recognize the emptiness in D'Artagnan's eyes because it was the very same she felt inside ever since she told him to leave. It took a millisecond of reflection before she took a decision, Jacques could go to hell: she brought D'Artagnan home with her. She offered him tea, let him sob on her shoulder, holding him close to her heart and when he finally fell asleep from exhaustion she covered him with a warm blanket.

Then she quickly ran to the house next door where D'Artagnan had told her the good captain was now living. She half expected to find him drinking- the front door had been left unlocked- but what awaited was a pleasant surprise.

"Of all the places! The little bastard had to choose the one next to mine!"

He was standing at his window, hiding behind a curtain and glaring at the other house next to his.

"Captain?" She asked

"Constance! What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here, my dear?" He turned to face her and seemed to momentarily forget his frustration.

"You happened to choose the house right next to mine for your retirement, Sir"

His eyes widened a bit and one of his eyebrows rose up to his hairline. He nodded to himself, chuckling lightly and held his hands behind his back in a very idiosyncratic manner.

"Well at least, that's good news" He muttered. "I'm sure you're a more pleasant neighbor than the idiot next door" he said nodding at the window.

She walked up to it, curious, and noticed that from there she had a view on the living room of the house next door. A man was sitting on the couch, drinking and also glaring at his own window.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"Other than a complete imbecile? That is Monsieur Richelieu, a man who apparently dedicated his life to ruining mine."

They observed him in silence for a few moments before it was broken by Constance.

"Does this mean you're going to move?"

"I don't think so! That would be like yielding! No, I will show him that it takes more than his atrocious presence to phase me!"

)0(

It was over, she told him. She couldn't live like this anymore, she told him. She wanted to be _happy_, she told him. He screamed a lot, threatened a lot, but she stood her ground this time, doing her best not to cry, thinking about herself, and D'Artagnan and how they both had so much healing to do. Eventually, Jacques stormed out and slammed the door behind him. She heard tires screech on the driveway, and ran to the window in time to see Jacques make a U-turn on the small street and speed away. He didn't go far, however, as a truck turned the corner. Jacques didn't have time to break and smashed into the side of the truck. The front of his car was crushed like a small ball of paper and Constance fainted as she saw the crumpled body of her ex-husband be projected out of the wreckage and into the street. The brain leaking out from an equally smashed head imprinted the sidewalk for weeks after the incident.

Lying awake at night, Constance often wonders if he did it on purpose to make her regret her decision. In any case, it worked.

)0(

The next time she saw him, he was sitting on a small cot at the treatment center, a bag on his knees. He hadn't put the makeup on and his scars were fully visible. The gash sewn closed across the forehead, descending around the eye and along the cheek was black and green, glaring against the ghostly white skin. Guilt came flashing back for an instant but D'Artagnan was right there and seemed to know what she was thinking because he placed a gentle hand on her wrist. She quickly wondered if Athos, Porthos and Aramis had similar scars but then Jacques got up and muttered something out being right back. She squared her shoulders, and nodded.

Not her fault.

)0(

Constance couldn't help but feel like something was horribly wrong with Jacques. It wasn't the same discomfort that use to constantly tickle her spine when she was still with him: he had apparently taken the three inseparables' warning to heart and was quietly staying out of their way. It wasn't the scar either. Unlike the boys, Jacques had his face always properly covered with the makeup, hence she couldn't see it if she wasn't looking for it. But something was off. She often heard him mumbling to himself asking "where could he possibly be?" and looking outside at Tréville's house with a mischievous glint at the back of the eye. Most importantly, he was spending tremendous amounts of time on the computer but when she tried to figure out what, she realized he had carefully erased all the cookies and the history. He was hiding something and she didn't like it at all.

It all abruptly stopped one day, however and Jacques was back to his post-mortem behavior. Childish behavior, arrogant comments, and unbearable laziness. Unfortunately, the bad feeling didn't go away, it even got worst. Constance felt like something had happened and she needed to know _what_.

She got her answer a week later.

Constance was in a hurry to get home; it had been a long shift and the frigid October air was infiltrating itself under her coat, freezing her to the bones. It was only 5 O'clock but the town was already plunged in darkness. She wanted to be home, in front of the telly with a cup of tea. Just as she put her key in the keyhole of her front door, a car rolled in the street and slowed down. It almost stopped in front of Tréville's house and the driver leaned closer to his window, just enough so his face was slightly more visible under the murky lighting of the lampposts. Constance gasped and ran inside.

She anxiously waited for the car to leave the street than hurried outside again and ran to Tréville's, all thoughts of a good tea flying out of her mind. She needed to warn the boys, she needed to warn _Aramis_.

Marsac was back in town.

* * *

**Guys… I don't need to tell you NOT to bring strangers home in real life right? It's all flowers and rainbows for Constance and Athos but noooo don't do it. For you safety and for theirs. **

**Tadaaa Here we have Constance! Yay! Next up is the inseparables, starting with Athos *wouhouu**

**Unfortunately, don't expect anything until May/June. I have my finals that require attention because I do want to go to University and that requires studying. A Lot. Hail the IB. Anyways, wish me luck! see ya lads, in a few months.**


	4. Athos: Oblivion

**Guysss I'm back! And done with IB! Wouhouuuu, freedom!**

**Anyways, here is Part three. If everything goes according to plan I will have finished this fic by the end of summer and started the last part of these series... so hang in there and enjoy!**

* * *

**Athos: Oblivion**

The problem with resurrections was that you could actually remember your death. The pain, the fear, the feeling of helplessness… It all came back as soon as your brain started to wake up. Athos remembered it as if it were yesterday.

It was only a routine patrol that completely went to hell. Aramis, Porthos, D'Artagnan and himself were passing through an abandoned village when they were ambushed. A mine exploded somewhere on his right that propelled D'Artagnan against a wall, then they were assaulted by more than a dozen of renegades. He and Porthos immediately took a defensive stance to cover Aramis as he carried their fallen comrade to safety. There were too many of them. For each he managed to take down, two more would attack, his strength was rapidly weakening and he could see even Porthos struggling to keep up. He had just disposed of a man who had latched itself on his back when it happened. Another man managed to slip under his guard as he was occupied and come straight up to him. A long knife was stabbed right under his navel, cutting the air out of him. Stunned and weakened by the physical effort of the fight, he didn't manage to pull away and his opponent grabbed him by the belt to drag him closer, shoving the knife deeper. Then he yanked it up and pain erupted like a thousand of fires all over his body. He vaguely felt himself be pushed backwards and a loud crack resonated between his temples as his head met the ground. He felt the warm puddle of his own blood soaking his clothes and the sand underneath him as the pain was gradually replaced by a numbness even more terrifying and the last thing he saw before the dark veil covered his eyes completely was Porthos' horrified face.

)0(

Athos wasn't immediately aware that he remembered his death, no, at first, his newly resurrected brain only registered… confusion. He was in a box, he needed out, he needed to dig and scratch and pull and _get out. _He didn't feel the cold rain hit his face, he didn't take a lungful of air, and he didn't notice any pain coming from ruined finger tips caused by digging his way up. He only saw darkness and felt the need to _eat_, but first… He grabbed Aramis by the arm, pulled him out and then nudged Porthos to a standing position. Only they weren't Porthos and Aramis, just like he wasn't Athos. They were just things that needed to _eat_ and needed to _stick together. _They left the cemetery, and started hunting.

Athos doesn't remember all the details of their time as… zombies, but their last kill and subsequent capture was one of his most recurrent nightmares along with his own death. He and 'hunting partners' (as his almost-dead brain had come to think of not-Porthos and not-Aramis) had managed to break in a store of the gas station and take the unfortunate souls hiding there by surprise. They had managed to grab two men and a woman as they tried to run away and smashed their heads open on the stone of the floor. He was fingers deep in brain matter (not enough, never enough), mouth leaking from blood and other substances when four FVH, that had now been following them for a few days, managed to trap them in a net.

He didn't realize where they were taking him, instinct just kept him struggling and attempting to claw at their throats, but when the blinding hunger subsided, he was in a room of the treatment center, strapped to a table, stiches on his stomach fixed and a man in white lab coat was smiling down at him.

"Athos De LaFrère, is it? Welcome back young man."

)0(

_Domesticated. _He had been domesticated, realized Athos upon waking up that morning. His night had once again been plagued by memories of pain, death and killings, but as he opened his eyes to snowflakes lazily descending from the sky through the window, and to the warmth of Aramis' body plastered against his side, all the tension left him. A hand was gently caressing the stitches on his stomach, chasing away the ghosts of pain and replacing it with a strange serenity. Aramis had redone both his and Porthos', claiming the previous stiches were an offense to the art of stitching, so now, the thread carefully but solidly holding shut a wound that would never heal was more than just the painful memory of his demise. It was a testament of love and ties that even death couldn't break. Somehow, the trio had never been afraid of being separated by death, it was as if they instinctively knew they would all meet their end together… or due to a naïve, love-induced hope. But it didn't matter anymore. Athos had been comfortable in his life as a soldier and had always expected to live and die as one. Well technically, he had died as one, but he was back now and comfortably living as a civilian, _in a house_, doing not-soldier things. And he _liked _it. He had been domesticated without even realizing it.

"You've barely woken up, Athos, don't start thinking so hard already" complained a voice against the skin of his neck.

Athos smiled and gently grabbed the hand on his stomach to squeeze it, leaning his head some more against the dark curls resting on his shoulders. On the other side of the bed, Porthos shuffled closer, still deep in sleep, his long arms encircling both his lovers in a protective embrace.

"What can I say… someone has to do the thinking around here."

Aramis was still too sleepy to fake being offended and merely hummed in acquisition.

"Still… morning. Too early."

The Spaniard punctuated his complaint by a yawn which made Athos chuckle. He leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose, giving Aramis the opportunity to drag him closer with an arm around the back of his neck. They kissed languidly, Athos rolling on top of him to deepen it properly and were only interrupted by a deep, rumbling voice coming from the side of the bed.

"How can a man sleep, when the two of you are moving around so much?" muttered Porthos, opening two bleary eyes at them.

Aramis broke the kiss whipping his head back with a delighted laugh, exposing a long white throat which Athos immediately leaned in to kiss and bite.

"Don't act as if this isn't your favourite way to wake up." The Spaniards hand trailed up from Athos' neck to his hair and tangled his fingers in the dark curls whilst stretching his other arm to trail a finger down Porthos cheekbone and chin.

"Now, are you going to join or are you content to watch?" he asked provokingly with a broad smile.

Porthos growled low in his throat and nipped at the fingers tickling his face. He caught the hand and dragged himself forward to trap it between the mattress and his body.

"You." He rumbled, "Are a little piece of shit."

He grabbed a chunk of Aramis' hair as the other started laughing again and started peppering his face with kisses in a half-hearted attempt to make him stop. Athos lifted his head from where it was resting on Aramis chest to watch them squabble.

"Gentlemen." He murmured, amused.

Twin grins turned to him, and he was dragged down again.

Sweet, _sweet, _new life.

)0(

_"__There was yet, another terrorist attack at the Gare du Nord of Paris. Three PDS sufferers went rabid in the train during rush-hour effectively murdering 10 people and severely wounding 20 more-"_

"For Fuck's sakes, Athos! Turn this thing off on your way over please!"

The captain's grumbling every morning was one of Porthos' and Aramis' greatest source of amusements. It had always been, but now that it was no longer about his four best soldiers' incompetence at taking precautions but on mundane every life events, the two took an even greater pleasure in listening to him complain under his breath. Athos found it comforting. That, at least, hadn't changed.

After descending the stairs, the ex-soldier made a detour for the living room where he shut the TV before heading in the kitchen and taking the seat in front of his captain. He grabbed a piece of the newspaper laying on the table and started reading as Tréville started his breakfast. Whilst he no longer needed to eat or drink, Athos liked spending his mornings in the kitchen simply to uphold a comforting routine and to keep company to his old friend.

"Slept well?" Asked Tréville.

"As well as possible" answered Athos.

Tréville nodded. No, their nights were no longer peaceful but some were less horrifying than others. This particular night had been a good one, considering.

The two men stayed in a comfortable silence only punctuated by the two _overgrown children _breaking a ruckus upstairs until there was three sharp knocks at the door. With a sigh, Tréville put down his piece of the newspaper and made his way to his front entrance, with a scowl of irritation. Athos smiled over the economics sections of newspaper, amused by what he knew was a fake show of annoyance.

The person behind the door knocked three more times and then quickly another five before the Captain made it to the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming" he called.

Tréville barely turned the knob that a weeping Madame Lafontaine sprang inside like a devil from his box.

"Ah! Monsieur de Tréville! It's terrible, terrible!"

She threw herself in his arms and the Captain's distraught air would have been hilarious were it not for the woman's obvious distress.

"There, there, Madame" he murmured, gently tapping her back and leading her to the couch.

"Here, sit down, would you like some water? It will make you feel slightly better. There, take a deep breath, calm yourself and tell me what is troubling you so much."

It was no wonder, mussed Athos, that so many came to him for comfort. The man was an excellent advisor and had a talent in helping people get their wits back together. He had used it quite efficiently with Aramis after Savoy and had now another way to put his talents to good use. Tréville hadn't really _invited _people to cry over his shoulder- it had sort of happened. He was too polite to refuse distressed people his help when it was so needed however and it had the added advantage of telling him a lot of the village news. He was aware of all the gossip.

"My- my son, he- he— I haven't seen him in three days now! And the police say they're searching and doing their best, but- but, they just don't seem to put in the necessary effort! And- and they keep telling me I'm worrying too much and- and I just don't know what to do! My son is gone! Again! I don't want to lose him again! So soon after he…"

Madame Lafontaine broke down into sobs once again and Tréville started rubbing her back to help her breathe.

"There, there… Madame, forgive me for asking but… was- is your son a PDS sufferer?"

The poor woman nodded, reflexively straightening her back defensively.

"It's why I don't think the police is doing as much as they could… or would for another person." She managed to say after calming down a little bit.

"What is happening here?"

Athos turned to see that Porthos and Aramis had finally joined them. The two were cautiously looking to the couch where the Captain was now discussing in a low voice with Madame Lafontaine.

"Her child" he replied nodding in the woman's direction "has disappeared three days ago and she fears the police is not making enough effort to find him."

" 's he, like us?" asked Porthos.

Athos nodded and the other sighed in understanding. They sat down and calmly waited for the discussion to end, trying to catch a few words here and there. 20 minutes later, Tréville and Madame Lafontaine finally got up from the couch and the captain gently escorted her to the door, murmuring words of comfort.

"I'll keep an eye out and ask a good friend working at the station to see if he can do anything to speed up the process. Stay strong, Madame, your son will be brought back to you."

Once the door closed behind her, the captain turned to see his three men looking expectantly at him.

"Nasty business." He sighed.

)0(

It was nearing 8 pm that same day when another visitor came carrying bad news. Constance came barreling through the door, having opened it with hers spare key, making everyone jump of fright. The trio was in the process of putting coats on (out of habit - they no longer felt the cold) to go out and meet D'Artagnan at the pub. Athos was inches away from having the door slammed in his face. Porthos shuffled forward worriedly.

"Constance? What is-"

"Aramis!" She turned to the man a slightly wild look on her face.

"Aramis! Athos, Porthos, thank god you're all here!" She closed the door and somehow managed to grab them all by the arm to pull them back more towards the inside of the house.

"Constance, what in God's name is happening?" Asked Aramis.

"Listen, I saw someone, someone you know and you're not going to like it." She said seriously. Before any of them could ask for any specifications, she turned to Aramis, took one of his hands in her own and stared at him right in the eyes.

"It's Marsac, he's back in town and I think Jacques may have something to do with it."

Athos tensed instantly and saw Aramis freeze as if a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over his head. If he had any colour left on his face, it would certainly have drained away to leave him as pale as he currently was. Also sensing his distress, Porthos gently took him by the arm and led him to the couch. The bigger man's shoulder were stiff and a low growl underlined his voice when he spoke again.

"Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes, I saw him in a car on the streets just a few minutes ago. I could recognize him anywhere after everything he did…"

Marsac actually reminded Athos of Jacques only he was much more cunning and detestable. He remembered how initially he and Aramis had become easy friends until it quickly escalated into trouble. The man became obsessed and wouldn't take no as an answer despite the Spaniard being clearly uninterested and already in a relationship. He had done everything in his power to play with Aramis' head from gas-lighting to threats, faking his death and exhorting him money. A tiny part of Athos was glad he was back; Porthos and himself had been wanting to have a… conversation with him.

"Why is he back now?" spat Tréville "He's always hated this town and always believed he deserved better."

Everyone turned towards Aramis again but the man only shook his head and got up from the couch.

"It doesn't matter why he's here. As far as I'm concerned, he's been crossed out of my life. Now… Athos, Porthos, I believe D'Artagnan will be waiting for us."

He walked out followed by Porthos then Athos who stopped near Constance:

"Thank you for the warning… If you don't mind, can you interrogate Jacques discreetly? If Marsac is indeed back because of Aramis, then Jacques is probably the one that told him, if not then he's got to know what he's doing here."

The petite woman straightened up and nodded firmly, a protective glint in her eyes.

"I'll do what I can" she replied

Athos smiled gratefully and leaned down to kiss her on both cheeks before following his lovers outside. Hopefully, they wouldn't see a lot of Marsac around.

)0(

"This is completely useless, not to say ridiculous!"

"Ninon, my dear, these rotters cannot be allowed to roam freely in our town, they need to be monitored and this is the best way to do so."

Ninon had a lot of difficulty holding back a sneer at the derogatory terms towards both herself and her patients. She had worked with idiots like Marsac before and he was not going to lose her legendary wit in front of this one. Unfortunately, the papers she was holding in her hands held the signatures of almost all the important people of this town.

_We hereby declare that all responsibility towards St Émilion's PDS sufferers is accorded to Marsac François de Lesbournes. Permission is granted for all initiatives he deems necessary to the supervision of said inhabitants. _

She didn't know how Marsac had managed to get such permission but the implications made her skin crawl.

"I have given you my reports, like you asked, in which it was clearly indicated that all PDS sufferers were perfectly sane and taking their dosage properly. Their integration back into society has been going smoothly, there is no need for any sort of… of therapy sessions!"

"These are not _therapy sessions_, merely meetings where everyone will be accounted for and given tasks… they have destroyed this town during the uprising and now they have to give back. It is merely justice."

Marsac raised a hand, interrupting Ninon as she opened her mouth to reply and held out three of the filed she had given him.

"Athos, Porthos and Aramis all live with a certain Jean de Tréville, correct?"

"Yes, as is clearly written down."

"No address?"

"That is confidential."

"I need that address"

"And I'm telling you, you won't have it. As a doctor, I'm bound by a confidentiality oath that allows me not to provide you with it."

Marsac's face twitched briefly in annoyance and Ninon knew that even if she didn't give it to him, he would use other means to have it.

"These three men were soldiers."

"I'm aware."

"Their experience makes them particularly more dangerous, I need to keep a close eye on them."

"As you will, _in your weekly meetings. _They will suffice I assure you; these three are not a danger. "

Marsac closed the folders with a snap and met her eyes with a barely contained glare.

"That will be all, Doctor DeLarocque."

The rude dismissal increased her desire to slap him in the face, but she held herself back and picked up her things to leave. The last thing she saw was Marsac sitting at his new desk and re-opening the file labelled 'René Aramis d'Herblay"

_Creep. _

)0(

"I can't believe we have to do this" groaned Porthos.

Athos was of the exact same opinion but failure to attend these 'PDS sufferer meetings' was punished by a trip back to the treatment center which none of them were willing to do. The trio sat at the far back of the room, Aramis towards the center, Porthos on the alley and Athos between the two of them. Slowly, all the PDS sufferers of town had filtered in, all looking just as unhappy as the three inseparables. Whilst everyone was settling in, the front doors opened and the man that walked in had Athos, Porthos and Aramis straighten up in their chairs.

Bloody _Marsac_ was responsible for this?

It took and enormous strength of will and all the dread returning to the treatment center created to be able to stay put in their seats as the man stepped up to the podium and tested the microphone.

"Hello? Hellooo? Great, it works." He shuffled some papers and straightened up, overlooking the grumbling assembly in front of him. Athos noticed Aramis making his best not to make himself as small as possible at his side.

"Silence everyone!"

The mumbling died down reluctantly.

"Good afternoon, PDS sufferers of St Émilion! It is great to have you all here, I'm glad you could make it!"

Someone in the audience coughed sarcastically. Athos liked that person immediately.

"It has been decided by the Mayor of this town that PDS suffers should help rebuild the society they have destroyed, hence the reason for these meetings! We will be supervising your conduct and assigning you community work."

The announcement had everyone cry out in complaint and Marsac had to tap the microphone against the table to drag everyone's attention back on him.

"Anyone who does not conform to the code of PDS sufferer good conduct will be given a warning! After 10 warnings, it's back to the treatment center with you!"

The threat worked and everyone settled down again, yet a tense anger remained floating in the room. Marsac nodded satisfied and continued.

"Allow me to present you my partner who will help supervising you in your tasks. Everyone please welcome Émile Bonnaire!"

Halfhearted claps filled the room as the man himself sauntered him and took the microphone.

"Thank you everyone! It is such a pleasure to be here! Now before we start allow me to remind you of all the ruled you, as a PDS sufferer need to follow. For this session and this session only no warnings will be given but there will be no more exceptions!"

Athos tuned him out as he babbled on about the mandatory injections and makeup. As per usual, he and the other two had come out without their makeup and lenses along with a few others who had followed their lead. The idea of having to put all these layers of makeup again disgusted him as it looked fake despite their best efforts and did no justice to the original tone of skin they had when alive. Some mornings, it even took them twice as long to apply it because they would accidently confuse their bottles with one another whilst half asleep which would end up with mismatched tones of skin.

"But enough talking! We will move on with taking the attendance. Please raise your hand when I call your name."

Bonnaire started reciting the names one by one and Athos had to hold back a laugh at how childishly they were treated.

"Olivier Athos de la Frère?"

He rose a hand making sure to put his middle finger more in evidence, pulling a laugh from the two men at his side.

"René Aramis d'Herblay?"

Aramis' good mood, induced by Athos' stunt, fell again as his raised hand attracted Marsac's gaze on him. Really, Athos was surprised the man had held back this long.

"Porthos DuVallon?"

"Present" drawled his lover, mockingly raising a finger. That had more people giggling silently and Athos smirked slightly whilst Aramis didn't hold back the full grin blooming on his face. Marsac's traits darkened once more but Bonnaire smiled, amused like one is amused by a pet. This man was decidedly making Athos more and more very wary of him.

"What about little François? How come he doesn't need to be here?" Asked an elderly woman when everyone's name was called out.

Marsac came forward once more to take the microphone from his accomplice.

"Young François is unavailable but worry not, the council has taken him into consideration."

"Isn't that the name of the son of Madame Lafontaine?"

Porthos whispered in his ear. Athos nodded.

"It seems they already know he's disappeared… I wonder why they don't look any more concerned with it."

"It is rather odd considering all the precautions they took to make sure everyone would be here…" Replied Aramis. "They seem to have been around for longer than we originally thought. Especially is Marsac got a permission from the Mayor… they must have been preparing this for some time now."

If that were the case, mused Athos, then there was a lot more brewing under the surface than what it seemed. The three friends had to stop talking however as Bonnaire spoke again.

"Great! Now that this is all settled, we will start with our first exercise. I will need a volunteer…" Bonnaire looked down at the list he held in his hands. "DuVallon!" Porthos tensed up again. "Yes, you will do, please come up!"

Athos tapped the bigger man encouragingly on the arm and Aramis gently rubbed a thumb over his knee as Porthos rose to his feet with an angry sigh.

)0(

"How was it?"

Athos was silently pleased to see D'Artagnan waiting for them outside despite the cold when they were finally allowed to leave. They had been to the blasted thing for the entire afternoon.

"Horrid" Grunted Porthos. He dropped an arm around the younger's shoulders and started walking away whilst gesturing wildly with the other hand. Athos and Aramis followed side by side behind them.

"We're treated like we have no feelings and need a complete re-education. Hello D'Artagnan." The big man started miming the ridiculous routine Bonnaire had them repeat time and time again. "I'm sorry if my cold skin shocked you! I am a PDS sufferer, and giving back to my society! Look I am wearing makeup and contact lenses to make you as comfortable as possible!" Porthos shuddered in disgust. "We don't need supervision or education! Everything's been going perfectly fine until now…"

"I wrote to the mayor, I'm sure he'll do something about this; it was a private initiative after all." Tried to comfort the Gascon.

"I'm afraid not" Sighed Athos. "According to Marsac he got permission and even encouragements from the Mayor for this."

"What I don't understand" Interrupted Aramis, "Is, why now? I've heard of similar initiatives taking place in England but they never held! And now, Marsac just comes along with a new minion and sets this whole thing up? If there's anything I know for sure about him is that he never does anything unless he'll get personal benefits from it."

The four men paused in their step as Porthos turned around to trade a quick glance with Athos.

"Maybe… maybe it's a way to get to you?"

D'Artagnan shook his head.

"There are many simpler ways to do that. Unfortunately, this town is not exactly progressive in the defense of its resurrected inhabitants…"

The young man was interrupted by a shout.

"Please sir! Something needs to be done for my son!"

The four inseparables turned towards the building they were walking away from to see Madame Lafontaine accosting Marsac as he was walking towards his car. She caught him by the arm before he managed to enter. Even from this distance, the four could clearly see the annoyed and sinister smile he quickly morphed into a seemingly more pleasant one before turning to face the distraught mother.

"I assure you, Madame that I will send more people to investigate about your son's disappearance. There really is no need for worry."

His voice sent an unpleasant shiver down Athos' spine and he watched as the man grasped the woman's hand, kissed it in mock comfort before patting it patronizingly.

"Now go home and let the professionals do the work."

Marsac did not wait for a reply, entered his car and drove away, honking as he passed the foursome on the sidewalk. Madame Lafontaine watched him drive away before heaving a sigh and dejectedly walking away.

"What a despicable piece of shit." Hissed Aramis. He suddenly turned on his heels and started walking away towards the bar they usually hung out in, the others following close behind. They entered silently, each lost in their own angered thoughts until they found a table and sat down, Athos and Porthos closely bracketing their third. D'Artagnan raised his hand and ordered four drink which were deposited in front of them a few seconds later.

"I don't trust him with this." Said Aramis, staring to calm down.

"Me neither" stated D'Artagnan. "He doesn't look at all like he's going to put any effort into it."

Athos sighed to hide the excitement starting to bubble in his chest but was betrayed by the grin that graced his lips as he lifted his cup to them.

"I do believe, gentlemen, that an investigation is in order"

"Like the good ol' times, eh?" beamed Porthos.

The four cheered and raised their glasses to that. In one synchronized gulp, they emptied their contents and smashed them back on the table with roaring laughter. Athos smiled at his friends' delight, gently releasing his own glass and hiding his trembling hand under the table.

It had been shaking irregularly throughout the day; little tremors that felt like his own body was betraying him.

* * *

**Next up: Porthos**


End file.
